


Defending her Honour

by divagonzo



Series: Citrus Basket Series [9]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-23
Updated: 2015-11-23
Packaged: 2018-05-03 02:50:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5273720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/divagonzo/pseuds/divagonzo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s the weekend before their wedding. Ron and Hermione are bringing a few things from her parent’s residence to their new flat the week before the wedding. A misunderstanding benefits both of them, much to Ron’s delight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Defending her Honour

**Author's Note:**

> It’s NC-17 smutty, with a touch of bickering and angst. See Author’s note at the end for additional information.

* * *

“Hermione, this is bloody ridiculous. Why can’t we just apparate the blasted things to our flat?” 

She rolled her eyes at her soon-to-be husband and tried to stifle the huff she felt. “We’re doing this like Muggles because I don’t want anything in those boxes broken when we move them to the flat. If we apparate, they might shatter since I don’t know how glass holds up under apparition. And honestly, I’m not taking a chance on these heirlooms.” 

“Heirlooms? They look like rubbish!” 

Hermione took the box from his arms by her father’s older model Range Rover and put it gently into the boot. “One man’s cast-off spark plugs are another man’s treasure trove.” 

“Fair point.” Ron looked at the box of rubbish and kept his mouth shut. 

“This box of china was my grandmother’s. Mum kept it for me, for when I got married. I know we don’t have much use for it now, but maybe later on, when we’re older, we can use it.” 

“Maybe,” Ron looked at the stack of boxes in the back of her father’s auto. “But maybe we’ll be using the same four plates we already picked up from the charity shop near your parent’s place. I reckon those will work if Harry and Ginny pop over one evening.” 

“And what if family comes over for dinner? We’ll need more than one additional set of plates and other things.” 

“I reckon they can eat out of takeaway cartons like the rest of our family does when they visit.” 

“Ron!” She slapped him on the arm but he smiled at getting a rise out of her. 

“I’m just taking the piss. I know we have more than one set of family that will want to come by and eat our hard-earned galleons.” 

“That’s why I want to take our things to our flat without them breaking in transit. What if we apparate to our flat and I drop them?” 

“You can repair them if they end up broken. You’re still a witch with a wand.” 

“That’s not the point, Ron! I don’t want them broken where I have to use magic to repair them.” Hermione slammed the door on the boot and returned to the driver’s side door. “Are you coming or not?” 

“Don’t get shirty with me, Hermione,” Ron growled before opening his own door, quietly grousing since she was driving and it wasn’t a broom or his broom, in particular. “I was being honest. All of this is just wasting good shagging time.” 

“Look, you don’t get it. These things - “

“I don’t get it?” Ron rolled his eyes at Hermione’s huff. “What don’t I get, that you cherish those things that weren’t broken seven times over, and repaired every single time the twins decided something of yours was worth breaking, not theirs? Oh believe you me, I do.” 

Hermione sat in the driver’s seat, boggled at what she’d said to Ron, and his response. 

“I get it. They are nice things. We should have a few nice things, especially after you’ve been so good about saving galleons everywhere we can, so we can have better dishes in our flat. But, bloody hell,” Ron ran his hands over his shorts and squeezed his sweaty thighs, “we get it there and we protect it, with magic, so we don’t break the damn things, like we learned after breaking the mirror on our dresser at Harry’s place.” 

“Ron, I’m sorry.” Hermione flushed. “I – “

“I get it, I really do. We have a shitty couch you paid a pittance for and cheap plates and glasses picked up for a knut if we didn’t get them from friends and my robes are only slightly second-hand that you found at that wicked charity shop but it’s still newer than what I had growing up. You might not think a thing of it but you’re so good for us, and take care of the galleons we bring to our vaults, that when we do have a few nice things, I want them to hold up too, I reckon.” He looked at his scarred hands. “I’m not a complete twat.” 

Hermione leaned over the shifting console and pulled his face to hers and snogged him breathless. “You’re amazing, you are. And you’re not a complete twit.” 

Ron smirked. “I see what you did there.” 

Hermione waggled her eyebrows. “Did what?” She cheeked. 

“Flirting with me.” 

Her grin grew lascivious and wicked. 

“Oh hell, what brilliant idea do you have?” 

Hermione looked out the windows of her father’s Land Rover and didn’t see any neighbors out and around. “I should make it up to you for you being brilliant and me being a harpy.” 

“What do you have in mind?” 

Hermione twisted in her seat and saw the stack of boxes in the boot. The jump seats were folded up, leaving some room up front, behind their seats, but was stacked to the roof at the door. 

“Are you thinking something completely wicked and might get us in trouble if we’re caught?” 

Hermione turned aubergine. “Mum and Dad won’t be back for another hour. But I’ll only do it if we’re disillusioned. That’s my agreement.” 

“You want to shag, in broad daylight while in your dad’s auto and hope we don’t get caught out?” 

She shrugged at her own suggestion. “It’s completely mental and quite - “

“Fuck yeah!” Ron pulled Hermione back to him, snogging her deeply. “But how the bloody hell am I gonna get back there?” 

She thought for a moment. “Can you apparate the two feet?” 

“So I can shag you rotten before we get home? Absolutely!” Ron pulled the wand from his shorts and twisted in his seat, landing right in the middle of the space where there weren’t any boxes. He maneuvered to pull down a seat and quickly freed his cock from his pants. 

“Already?” Hermione shook her head. “And I thought I was the randy one.” Hermione crawled through the space between the bucket seats and took a deep breath, watching Ron’s impressive member thudding in time with his heartbeat. She bit her lip, considering the ramifications and logistics of shagging in the back seat of her father’s vehicle. “How can we - “

“Just drop your knickers and we’ll figure it out.” 

“Ron Weasley, you certainly have a way with words.” But Hermione did as he asked, shedding the shorts and said knickers into the floorboard. “Now what?” She sat down on the padded console between the front seats, waiting on him to figure out how they were going to make love in such confines. 

Ron pulled his wand and cast the appropriate charms, on himself and Hermione, as well as concealing the interior of the vehicle. “That’s the best I can do, considering this is his car.” Ron looked at Hermione scrunched over on the padded console and licked his lips. Her breasts were almost to her legs and her legs were demurely crossed, hiding one of his favorite parts of her body. 

“How about on your knees, arms on the console, so you can keep watch for your parents while I fuck you from behind?” 

“But your knees?” 

Ron gently pulled her from the console and kissed her deeply. “I already padded the ground.” He turned her around, pulling her arse towards him. He wet his fingers and delved her flesh, seeing the change in colors once he opened her fleshy slit to his eyes, and nose, and fingers. The flesh of her slit was already pink and he could tell she was aroused without having touched her. 

“Ron,” 

“Hush, you,” he slapped one cheek enough to get her to quiet down. “I’ll be buried balls deep in a tic. But I want you completely ready.” He peeled the flesh back and smelled her. Nothing in his life compared to an aroused Hermione and he doubted anything ever would. He plunged two fingers into her, rattling the windows with her shriek. His fingers found the spots deep inside her quim that made her pant and sweat. Gooseflesh broke out immediately while she thrust her arse back onto his hand. He brought his other one around the front of her hips, finding the clit he loved to lap like an ice lolly. One long finger found her nerve bundle, and he worked it quickly, moving callouses over the button under his fingers. 

Hermione rattled the windows again. “More,” she begged him. 

Ron nestled his impatient cock between her thighs, leaning over her, hair scraping the padded ceiling of the auto. “Ready?” 

“Fuck me you smug bastard!” She yelled. 

Ron turned his head slightly and bit her neck while impaling his cock into her nest. 

She clenched around him, cumming hard on his cock, while screaming bloody murder. 

“Oh no you don’t. You don’t get to finish that fast, witch.” Ron thrust into her hard, pressing her hips into the console. “I’m gonna fuck you hard enough you’re still walking funny at our wedding next weekend.” 

“You promise?” 

Ron thrust hard again, feeling her hips rebounding from the console. “Look at your arse, taking a pounding. You’re gonna beg to come again before I’m done.” 

“So do it,” she moaned. 

He thrust a few more times, feeling her hips imprint from the console. But he also spied the seat to his left. He pulled out of her and plopped his boney arse on it, slinking down as far as he could go without hitting his knees on the other on. 

“Ron?” 

“Come sit on my cock, love.” 

Hermione saw him slouched on the jumpseat and grinned. “Yes, this will work.” She crawled over his expanse of leg, finding him standing tall for her. She sat hunched over, trying to not hit her head on the roof of the auto but sighed in pleasure at sheathing him again. She lifted her knees and crashed on his hips again, watching his eyes roll back into his head. “This what you had in mind?” 

“Fuck yeah. Come all over me. Bounce those tits I love.” 

Hermione rode him hard, feeling him hitting the nub on every stroke. Within seconds, she was moaning, losing track of time while feeling the growing crescendo cascade through her limbs. 

“Ready?” 

She nodded and hoped he understood. But then it was Ron, her best friend, her lover, and soon to be husband. He knew her better than she knew herself. 

Two talented fingers wiggled into her flesh, above where she was riding him harder than a hippogriff, and pinched her clit. 

She froze before clamping down on his cock that was buried bollocks deep inside her quim. She groaned and rolled her hips before he growled broken fragments of her name. “Oh fuck, oh fuck oh fuck,” he panted out. She continued to ride him another minute, milking him for everything he had. But he still continued his litany. 

“Ron, what?” 

“Parents ... driveway.” 

“Oh fuck.” Hermione scrambled to put her knickers and shorts on while Ron attempted to do the same. They watched the Grangers pull into the other parking place, lock the auto, and go inside the house. 

“That was too close!” Hermione fell onto the other jumpseat. “But now we need to go back in and say goodbye to them.” 

“You’re mental. I’m not going back in there.” 

”So apparate back to the flat and I’ll drive over.” 

“Sorted.” He gripped his wand and apparated away with a small _pop_. 

Hermione wiped her sweaty face with her shirt. “Not like I want to explain to them we shagged in Dad’s car.”

* * *

**Author's Note:**

>  **A/N:** For vehicle reference, Google: 1995 Land Rover Defender


End file.
